Prison Break
by gwpe
Summary: Or how it was decided who would go to rescue the Warden from Fort Drakon. Features my Katherine Cousland.


"Alistair, wait."

They could hear heavy footsteps coming quickly down the hallway. Wynne looked up from her latest embroidery project, as Leliana had politely termed the never-ending stream of clothing repairs that plagued the mage.

"Alistair, stop!"

The door to the sitting room crashed open, startling even the stoic qunari, admitting a determined Alistair, with an annoyed Morrigan and two exasperated rogues in tow.

"_Alistair_," Leliana pleaded, as the former almost-templar strode over to the couch where he had left his sword and shield. "And just what are you going to do? Take up your sword, march off to Fort Drakon, and bang on the front door until they let you in? You go off like this, and they will see you coming; what if they threaten you with Kitty's life?" Seeing as that gave Alistair pause, Leliana pressed her advantage, emphasizing her words by placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Please, Alistair, calm down. We need to plan this carefully."

"Fine. We plan. But I _will_ go," Alistair said curtly.

Zevran immediately broke off his explanation to the others regarding the Warden's capture to take up what sounded like a well-worn argument. "No, you will not; we have been over this already."

"You have been over this, I never agreed," Alistair countered.

"Braska!" Zevran spat out. "We do not have time for this nonsense. Alistair, you are the future king of Ferelden and the only other Grey Warden – we cannot risk letting you go to Fort Drakon."

"But – " Alistair began.

"It seems as though this particular brand of foolishness runs in the family," Morrigan commented from where she perched on the arm of a chair. "The last king of Ferelden also displayed this idiotic willfulness to place himself on the front lines before danger, only to die and to leave his country to be torn by civil war, ravaged by the Blight, and with almost no hope for survival."

Alistair turned on her. "You know nothing about Cailan or Ostagar!"

"Truly? As I recall, 'twas my mother that saved you and the Warden from – "

"Oh yes, your mother, that abomination of a – "

"In any case, we must break in and get Kitty out of there as soon as possible," continued Leliana, turning to Wynne and the others. She hoped that perhaps bickering with Morrigan would keep Alistair distracted. "Only two of us, though. Any more is guaranteed to attract attention. Zevran and I both have the most experience in this – we should be the ones to go."

"And have either of you broken in to a high security prison before?" Wynne inquired.

"There is a first time for everything, my dear Wynne," Zevran answered smoothly.

"Including getting caught," the elderly mage replied.

" – figures that Flemeth would naturally save, of course, the most short-sighted, insufferable – "

" – shambling ruin of a hut, manipulated by the only person you have ever – "

"And who should go then?" Zevran retorted, his annoyance growing again. "You and your magical bosom?"

"If I do not flaunt my status as a mage, I will not be noticed. Nobody pays attention to an old woman. And if Kitty is hurt, I can heal her wounds the easiest," Wynne reasoned. "Leliana," she started, turning to the bard, "I wonder, do you still have your Chantry robes?"

"Leaving your mage's staff behind, my dear, will not hide your nature from templars," Zevran insisted, trying to calmly push away the mabari at the same time. Cafall had picked up, by now, on the nature of the argument, and was desperately trying to enter his own bid.

"There is no reason to think that they employ templars at Fort Drakon," she calmly replied.

"There is no reason not to think so, either. That is not a risk I, for one, am willing to take," Leliana answered.

" – Chantry-begrimed mouth and I will _destroy _you! I will tie your toady limbs to a bow and then I will take the bow – "

"If I understand the situation correctly," Shale interjected, "the main problem appears to be how to get in and out of this place safely. The guards are soft, squishy creatures, and will present little obstruction to a golem."

" – are so utterly and completely empty that even a demon Fade-bent on possession would find it hard to fill – "

"We appreciate your offer, Shale, but you would be a little … um … noticeable. The idea is to sneak in and out, with no one the wiser," Leliana quickly responded, trying her best to deter Shale from participating, but without causing offence. Maker's breath, Wynne alone was proving difficult enough to handle.

"Which is why a former bard and a former Crow are ideal for this job!" Zevran insisted, yet again.

"Argh! I cannot take any more of you!" Morrigan exclaimed, as she began to storm out of the room.

"Wait a minute, where are you going?" Leliana asked, grabbing the apostate's arm.

"To break out the Warden," Morrigan stated, in a tone that dared them to argue with her, as she struggled to free herself.

"Absolutely not!" Zevran exclaimed. "Leliana and I are going, and this ridiculous discussion is over."

"The painted elf seems very certain of itself," Shale observed, earning herself the next bout of Zevran's temper.

"And why should I not go?" Morrigan asked, affronted. "I am the only one amongst you who can shapeshift, and thus _clearly_ can enter the easiest."

"And you plan to transform Kitty into a bird as well, I assume, on your way out? Or perhaps leave her to fight alone?" Alistair spat out, entering the argument once more.

"When have I ever left her?" Morrigan challenged, narrowing her yellow eyes.

"If you allow Morrigan to go, then I see no reason to forbid me," Wynne protested, "as she is just as susceptible to being sensed by templars as I am!"

In a forgotten corner of the room, Sten and Oghren silently observed the increasingly venomous argument.

"Pashaara," Sten finally said.

"Sodding right," Oghren answered.

With a brief shared look, they both stood and made their exit, the rest of their companions oblivious to the fact. Sten made a comment to the effect of how best to enter Fort Drakon without alerting the guards from the first, and Oghren mentioned something about using their unusual appearance to their advantage. They both made their way towards Arl Eamon's quarters ("Heh. Old Prickly Beard ain't there, should be able to find something that fits") to the sounds of the continuing argument ("Stop pawing at me, you miserable fleabag. 'Tis not I who forbids you to go").

It was a long time after Sten and Oghren had raided the Arl's wardrobe and had resolutely started on the road to the Fort, that the others realized that, at some point during the afternoon, they had become less one qunari and one drunken dwarf.


End file.
